


The Walking Black Hole

by Kinozaki



Category: Sansha Sanyou
Genre: Gen, Genderbending, Manga & Anime, Transformation, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinozaki/pseuds/Kinozaki
Summary: A boy struggling to win an eating contest finds his second wind when he turns into a girl with an endless appetite.





	The Walking Black Hole

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published on DeviantArt on November 4, 2017.
> 
> In an effort to accurately reflect my growth as a writer, my older stories are going to be uploaded chronologically, until publishing becomes concurrent.
> 
> As such, please bear with me through any roughness, as a lot has happened in two years, and I will be going through that at a very accelerated pace.

Sou took a deep breath, savoring the smell of the hearty stew. His mouth salivated from the rich aroma and he let out the breath only after he’d fully appreciated it. He offered thanks for the food in front of him, then looked up at the clock, spoon in hand. Once the seconds hand reached the top, his hand struck out, plunging deep into the massive plate. Pulling out a tall pile of glistening rice and dark curry, he shoveled it right into his waiting mouth.

The first bite was bliss, as it usually was. The thick sauce coated the inside of his mouth, the earthy spices tickling his tongue. Succulent pieces of pork, stewed for hours, melted at the slightest bite. Thin pieces of onion complimented the meat, adding a sharpness and the slightest bit of crunch. Starchy chunks of potato crumbled away, blending with the sauce and rice, adding to the heartwarming, homey feeling of the curry. Thick slices of carrot rounded out the dish, providing a slight sweetness to cut through all of the heavy, savory flavors.

After swallowing the first bite, Sou leaned back and closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. He loved this dish and its flavors, and today was the day he was going to finish it. He sat up straight, spoon still in hand, and attacked the massive plate of curry rice that threatened to spill over the small table the restaurant reserved for those foolhardy enough to tackle their curry challenge.

He made good time, having eaten just over a quarter of the plate after the 15 minute mark. It wasn’t a spicy curry, the shop owner insisting he wasn’t a sadist, but after enough spoonfuls, Sou found his nose starting to get runny. Over the months he’d spent attempting the challenge, he’d developed a system to work around it, though. He’d take a few bites of curry, and then a sip of water to give his palate a rest, and then a few more bites, and then a sip of milk to quench the building heat.

At the 30 minute mark, he’d started to slow, being noticeably short of the halfway mark. Sou tried not to panic, knowing that he could make it over the hump if he put his mind to it, but after a half hour, time had started to take its toll on the dish. The once warm sauce had started to cool, thickening it and making it harder to swallow. He started to take bigger drinks of water, to help wash down the sauce.

After 45 minutes, he unbuckled his belt, feeling the pressure from the starchy rice and potatoes filling his stomach. He had, at some point, eaten half of the plate, but he was dismayed to see he hadn’t managed much more. His bites started slowing dramatically, his jaw tiring of the constant chewing. The meat shredded less easily, the onions wouldn’t break up, the potatoes crumbled less willingly, and the sweetness of the carrots started to become a sickening curse.

By the end, he still had what the owner judged as two full orders worth of curry left, but Sou was so full that he couldn’t bring himself to care. There would be time for that later, of course, but all he could manage now was to sit, taking slow sips of water and swishing it around, hoping to cleanse every last trace of curry taste from his mouth.

He paid his bill and made his way, slowly, back to his apartment. He managed to get as far as the couch before his energy left him, slouching on it in a stupor as he crashed into what he not-so-affectionately called a curry coma.

Sou didn’t wake up until the next morning, well after the sun had risen. His head pounded, but he fought through it, managing to get up with some effort, and made his way to the kitchen. He filled a large glass with water, downed it in seconds, and filled another before heading back over to the sofa. Hanging his head in his hands, he thought back to the curry challenge, to the months he’d spent trying to overcome it, and how it had all amounted to nothing. Sou realized how melodramatic it was to get so hung up on something as simple as an eating challenge.

Still, he couldn’t help but see it as a grand failing on his part. He’d spent months trying to overcome it, studying online and trying every tactic he could think of to make his way through the plate. Fasting before the challenges didn’t work and diets recommended by eating champions failed him. The only positive result he’d had was that his tongue and mouth had become much better, almost impervious, to the steaming hot plates of curry. His stomach, however, just couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard he tried.

He didn’t want to give up, though. This was the hardest he’d worked at anything in his life, including his college entrance exams. So he soldiered on through the day, nursing his headache and working to fight off the mild dehydration. He got online again, poring over articles and plunging deep into forums, trying to find any trick he could to secure his victory. Sou wasn’t going to let this challenge beat him, and he was going to do anything and everything to overcome it.

After a month of what Sou considered intense training, he felt he was finally ready to try again. He was convinced that, for him, the ninth time would be the charm. The owner bowed to him when he entered the restaurant, a large smile stretching across his face. Laugh all you want, old man, this time I’m gonna win, Sou thought, as a waitress showed him to a table and brought him a glass of ice water. He declined the menu he was brought, announcing proudly that he would attempt the curry rice challenge.

The waitress, following a script, briefed him on the rules of challenge while the food was prepared. Sou ignored her, knowing full well what he was getting himself into. The owner brought out the plate, and the two of them looked to the clock, once again waiting for the seconds hand to hit the top.

When it did, Sou dug into the mountain of curry in front of him. He didn’t take the time to savor the first bite as he’d done before, he just chewed and swallowed, moving on to the next spoonful without ceremony. The first five minutes went by in a flash, with Sou rotating the plate as he went, hoping that by eating the outside that cooled the fastest, the center would still be warm and edible by the time he reached it.

Soon, the spice started to get to him. Sou hadn’t gotten milk this time, worried that anything heavier than water would slow him down, but he was already starting to feel a wetness against his forehead and an itch on his scalp. He wiped his hand against his forehead to fight off the growing beads of sweat, the heat somehow greater this time despite the crew cut he’d gotten for this exact purpose. With a jolt, he pulled his hand away as he felt soft bangs in his way. Curious, but not wanting to stop, he leaned forward as he ate, long brown hair traveling forward with him, framing his face.

Sou paused, for just a second, a timid hand reaching up to feel the silky strands, before the owner bellowed “Ten minutes in!” Determined to deal with it later, he picked his spoon back up, shoveling more curry into his mouth. The heat kept building, compacted by the midday crowd in the restaurant. He pushed the damp bangs out his vision as he kept eating, wishing he’d chosen to wear something lighter.

As soon as the thought formed in his mind, he felt a coolness wrap around his legs and spread up to his groin. The sensation caused Sou to panic, dropping the spoon to the table. He could feel the eyes of the restaurant on him, the customers curious to see if the spoon falling meant he’d given up. He scrambled for his glass of water, looking down past it as he drank, the chatter in the restaurant resuming. After putting the glass down, he was able to confirm what he thought he’d seen while drinking: He was wearing a brown skirt now.

He sat there, panicking from the inexplicable change, when the waitress came over and refilled his water glass. “T-t-thank you!” he stammered out, but the waitress just smiled and went over to another table. If she’d noticed the sudden change, she was doing a good job of hiding it. Sou looked back down at the plate in front of him, finding his determination again, despite being shaken by the weird happenings. He picked his spoon back up and dug in.

While he ate, though, he explored what had changed as much as he could. He ran his legs up against each other, feeling that they were smooth and soft, that he was wearing socks that went up his calves, and that he still seemed to be wearing tennis shoes. He pressed his legs together, noting that he seemed to take up less space in the chair than he had before. Curious, he even went so far as to cross one leg over the other under the table, a slight dread growing deep in his stomach as he performed an act of flexibility he’d been too...endowed...to do previously.

“15 minutes! We’re a quarter of the way there!” the owner yelled, causing Sou to uncross his legs and redouble his efforts on the plate in front of him. He had a little over half the curry left, and his confidence surged at how good his pace. As he continued to eat, though, he started to feel the wall once again, his breathing growing heavy and strained, a slight itch and tension spreading through his chest. He slowed down, but didn’t stop, determined to conquer the hurdle, hoping that’s all this was.

Suddenly, the feeling was gone, and Sou’s breathing returned to normal. He seized the opportunity, picking up the pace and downing more spoonfuls, spurred on by a sudden empty feeling in his stomach, as though he hadn’t eaten in days. He looked down, suddenly worried that this wasn’t just him overcoming the wall, his eyes being met by a modest wall of his own. 

Instead of the t-shirt he’d come in wearing, he saw a high school girl’s sailor shirt, a brown tie and collar over a sandy, off-white shirt. It fit loosely over him, but Sou could tell by the curve of the tie that a modest pair of breasts were under that shirt, a fact he confirmed as he wiggled his shoulders, feeling the strap of his bra and his breasts move with them. Carefully, he reached his free hand under the table, pressing it against his stomach while his other hand continued plunging his spoon into the food.

The pudgy stomach he’d grown after years of inactivity was gone, replaced by something much smaller. He discreetly slipped a hand up his untucked shirt to feel it, the softness surprising him. Sou moved his hand to his side, over to his hips, feeling that his blocky frame had changed as well, being replaced by soft, gentle curves. Suddenly, a wave of embarrassment hit him, a heat building in his face as he pulled his hand out and put it back on the table, worried that someone had seen what he was doing.

Sou looked around the room, but no one had noticed. In fact, no one seemed to be acting like anything weird was happening at all. His gaze returned to the plate in front of him, now almost all gone, when he saw out of the corner of his eye that the hand he’d pulled out from under his shirt wasn’t the one that went in. He looked at the hand gripping the spoon and it had changed too, from the large, embarrassingly hairy hands he’d had into small, delicate hands that, so far as he could tell, lined up with the other changes that had happened. His eyes moved up from them, confirming that his arms had changed, too, the hair that once covered them having disappeared, leaving youthful, vibrant skin in its place.

A loud “ting” rang across the restaurant as Sou’s hand, functioning on autopilot while he tried to come to grips with what had been happening, hit the plate, now entirely empty of curry. He looked up the clock, seeing that 20 minutes had just barely passed. The owner came over, looking paler than he had before, a look of shock on his face.

“C-congratulations, Miss! I don’t think we’ve ever seen anyone finish the challenge that fast! Hopefully you don’t end up with a tummy ache later!” He regained his composure as he talked, but Sou had a hard time focusing on the words coming out of his mouth. All he could feel and hear was the rumble of his stomach, yearning to be full.

“Well then, missy, do you have anything you’d li-” the owner began, before being cut off.

“More!” her voice interjected, high and almost warbly.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“I’m still hungry, so could you bring out another plate?”

The owner reeled at the request. “A normal plate?”

“No! Another big one!”

A hush fell over the restaurant at the request, while the owner went back to spoon up another plate. He brought it over, eying the girl cautiously, wondering if he’d inadvertently become the target of some new teenage prank. Before he could even set the food down, she stuck a spoon into it, lightning quick, and was swallowing when the plate hit the table.

The owner stepped back as the girl continued to devour the curry. She was much louder with this serving than she was the last, making her enjoyment of the meal very clear with every bite. Satisfied sighs slipped out of her mouth every now and then, and after ten minutes, she added the newly emptied plate on top of the old.

“I’ve still got a half hour left, so keep ‘em coming!” she said cheerfully, never putting down her spoon.

The owner kept bringing over plates piled high with curry rice, the girl’s pace never letting up. Finally, the hour was finished.

“W-well, let’s have you pose for a picture in front of the plates, Miss…” the owner said, suddenly blanking on the name of the insatiable girl that had destroyed his challenge.

She paused for a moment, the answer to the question eluding her, until it suddenly seemed so obvious. She couldn’t believe she was so oblivious. “Futaba!” she said, right before the camera snapped.

The owner shook the picture until it developed, and pinned it up on the wall, the high school girl being the first person to conquer his monster curry rice challenge. He handed her a permanent marker, letting her sign and date the picture.

Futaba stared at the picture, a strange feeling washing over her as she looked at the youthful, cheery girl making a peace sign in front of a stack of five enormous, empty plates. Bright, hazel eyes sparkled with accomplishment, and a wide, confident grin spread across her face. She felt a little embarrassed by how her hair looked, though. The bangs were a bit messy in front, and the back was starting to curve outwards right above her shoulders. Then again, that’s how she always looked, wasn’t it?

Pushing the odd feeling aside, she wrote her name, “Futaba Odagiri,” in big, bold strokes, adding the date afterwards. She still had room to write a small message. After a moment’s pause, she continued writing.

“The curry was super good, but I still want more!”

The girl hummed to herself happily as she left the store, the owner and waitress bowing to her, neither one sure what to make of her, both of them impressed that she could even stand, let alone walk, after all of that.

As she made her way through town, she couldn’t help but admire all the aromas coming from the surrounding restaurants and stores she passed. She did her best to not get lured by their siren smells, but as she passed a bakery, the warm, homey smell of bread wafted into her nose. She was opening the door to the shop before she could even think about all the curry she’d just eaten.

After a few minutes, she came out of the bakery with a bag stuffed full of cakes, cookies, tarts, buns, and other pastries. Threatening to fall out on the top was a large loaf of unsliced sandwich bread. It was so full that she had to hold the bag with both hands, the confections and their smells dangerously close to her face.

Futaba hurried home, trying desperately to sprint, but having to slow down at points to keep the bag from spilling over. After what seemed like an eternity full of the smell of freshly baked bread, she finally made it home, heading upstairs to her room. She let the bag spill out on the table, admiring the treasures in front of her.

She found herself wishing she had a couple other heads, or at least another mouth, so she could enjoy everything at once. Lamenting her simple biology, she decided to start with a cookie, enjoying the sweetness after all the plates of curry. She moved on to a turnover, then a brownie, a muffin, and finally wolfed down a whole jelly roll. Futaba sighed contentedly, then got up to pour herself a glass of milk from the fridge.

When she returned, she opened up the bag with the loaf of sandwich bread. She admired its golden brown color and inhaled deeply, savoring the simple smell of a good loaf of bread. Futaba held it, the bread yielding ever so slightly under her fingers, and bit in, chewing the soft, airy bread while her head swam from how good it was.

The mouthful of bread was chased with a drink of milk, when odd thoughts popped up in the girl’s head. When did she buy milk? Didn’t she live in an apartment, not just a room in a house? Hadn’t she been wearing something different when she left? Shouldn’t she be full to bursting? Futaba thought for a minute, looking down at the pastries still on the table, and really reflecting on the last question, when, as if to answer it, her stomach started to rumble. Giggling, she pushed the thoughts aside and took another bite of the tasty bread.

Of course she had milk, what else would go with all these delicious treats? This had been her room since she’d been little, why would her parents leave her in an apartment by herself? What else would she have worn to school but her uniform? And so what if she was hungry! That’s just how she was!

While she rattled off the answers in her head, she kept eating the loaf of bread, taking a big drink of milk when it was finished. She leaned back and let out a long, contented sigh. She’d had a day just full of yummy food. It was pure bliss!

But maybe, just maybe, she should only have one more cookie. After all, she didn’t want to spoil her dinner.


End file.
